


Still Waiting

by Peskychloe



Series: Waiting [2]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Future Fic, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, M/M, Post-Canon, time skip
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-09
Updated: 2017-12-09
Packaged: 2019-02-07 08:01:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12836811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Peskychloe/pseuds/Peskychloe
Summary: I researched a bit about Japanese marriage interviews for this, but if I've got anything wrong please tell me. It's not as prevalent these days, but Chikara's family are traditional, so I thought it was relevant.Obviously, a lot of this was inspired by listening to 'Chicago' by Sufjan Stevens. I think this is probably the end of the fic. It went in a direction I truly didn't expect.Daffodils - new beginningOx-eye daisy - patiencePrimrose - eternal love





	Still Waiting

The third time Chikara walks past the bar, he's sure it's _him_. He looks different enough that the barman hasn't recognised him yet, even though he keeps his distance. Chikara's hair is shorter, less of it to fall onto his forehead, and the glasses really do change him. A lot about him has changed in ten years.

The barman's hair is dark, his natural colour probably, long and tied in a messy knot at his crown, almost clean shaven underneath. He has more piercings now, including two on his bottom lip and one in his eyebrow, as well as a line of them all the way up both ears. He wonders for a minute if he has more, hidden beneath his uniform; perhaps he has his nipples pierced beneath the fitted white shirt, perhaps the waistcoat hides the bump of a navel piercing, or maybe the tight black trousers hide...more piercings he should _not_ be thinking about.

Remembering himself, he feels angry again. Angry that he's here, somewhere completely unexpected, ruining his holiday. Angry that he's just plain _existing_ at all, that he's still laughing so easily as he pours from bottles held high above the metal shaker, not measuring with anything other than what is clearly a well-trained eye.

The girl he's making the drink for is giggling, captivated, as he throws the shaker behind his back, catching it effortlessly after it flies over his shoulder. She claps with delight.

Yuuji winks at her as he hands over the glass, and Chikara wants to punch something. Or more accurately, some _one_.

Ten years is a long time to harbour a grudge, but Chikara is nothing if not determined. He'll hold this grudge for the rest of his life, if he has any say in it.

Then why do his legs keep bringing him back to this bar? What's the purpose of watching him, night after night?

It's not like he has nothing better to do. He's meant to be scouting for locations for his next film, not pining over his first love.

There's a small part of him which is happy for Yuuji. There's another, slightly bigger, part that wonders what he's been doing in the years he hasn't spoken to him.

There's an enormous, seething, venomous, part of him, that curls in his stomach and constantly gnaws at him, that fucking hates Terushima.

And then there's a piece of him he allows to stay, as long as it remains small and doesn't rear its head that often. A speck of his soul that surfaces in the dead of night, less often now than years ago, but still _there,_ something he's unable to cleanse himself of.

The part that will forever be in love with Yuuji.

He ignores the bar after that, walking a different way back from the production offices in the evening. He spends most of the rest of his two week trip thinking about the bar instead of the film anyway, so he might as well have carried on stalking Yuuji.

His last night in the city, he decides he can't leave it like this. It could be months or years, until he comes back to Chicago, he might never get another chance; he needs to use this opportunity the fates have dropped into his lap. Chikara hates the word closure, but he can't think of another one, probably because he's already half-cut on the drinks he had from the minibar of his hotel.

He's brushed his hair as far forward as he can, put in his contact lenses (the ones he rarely uses unless he's going on a date – so he hasn't used them in months) and a striped polo top. He looks younger, hopefully enough so that Yuuji will recognise him, and he can feign ignorance and pretend to not be able to place him.

The tactic is absolutely something Yuuji would do, there's a kind of poetic justice about that, despite the childishness of it. Chikara is not a petty man, usually, even though he has every right to be about what happened.

That poisonous part of him bristles in his stomach, expecting a good meal, maybe a shouting match in the middle of Yuuji's workplace so that it can finally be satisfied. Chikara wonders how to initiate something, but he's not even at the bar when he hears Yuuji say his name.

“Chika? Oh my gods! Shit, is that really you?”

Yuuji comes out from behind the bar, beaming at Chikara, reminding him of why he keeps that bud of affection from completely perishing. He still moves like a cat, his lithe limbs weaving through the chairs and tables. As he gets closer, he seems taller than he used to.

Chikara forgets he's meant to be pretending he doesn't know who he is, and puts out a hand to shake. Yuuji slaps it away, pulling him into a bear hug instead.

“Fuck off! Handshake, pfft. Haven't seen you in ten years and you expect a handshake?” He holds Chikara at arm's length, still smiling. “Gods, you look exactly the same, you handsome bastard.” Before Chikara can react, he's pulled back into Yuuji's chest; the scent of limes and sweat overwhelms him and it takes ever scrap of willpower not to grasp him closer and nuzzle into his neck.

Instead, he pushes away, and speaks in Japanese. “I didn't expect to see you here.”

Yuuji's bottom lip trembles, and Chikara waits, blinking faster than usual. “I haven't heard Japanese in so long,” he says, in slightly shaky Japanese.

“I thought you were in New York?”

“I was! But then I did a masters degree here and stayed. I liked New York when I was younger, but there's something about Chicago...the buildings and the art...” He laughs. “Apparently, I'm more interested in architecture than I thought.”

“You did a masters?”

“Yup. Linguistics.”

“So why...” The question hangs unfinished.

Yuuji finishes it for him. “...do I work in a dive bar? Worked in bars to get through college, stayed on. It's good practice, all the accents and languages.” He's still standing too close, leaning back onto his hands on a table behind him, head tilted to the side. He looks so comfortable, Chikara tries to make his own stance a bit more natural, but eventually he gives up and crosses his arms instead. “Enough about me! Why are _you_ here?”

“Oh. Urm. Scouting for a shoot.”

“You work in films? Knew it! I'm so proud of you, dude.” He seems genuine, and Chikara's stomach churns again, wondering when the arguing is going to start. “What do you do?”

“Assistant Director on this one.”

“That's incredible. Really.” For the first time in the conversation, Yuuji looks uneasy. He scratches the back of his head, as he asks, “So. You...alone?”

Chikara looks around. “Well, yeah.”

Yuuji laughs with a crooked smile. “Dick. I meant in America. Did you travel alone, or did you bring...” it's his turn to leave a hanging question, but this time Chikara isn't able to finish it.

“Bring? What?”

He looks to one side, avoiding Chikara as he says, “Your wife.”

Chikara blinks. “I'm not married.”

“Oh. Sorry to hear that.” He still looks genuine, and it starts to infuriate Chikara. “Things not work out, or...”

He takes a second to steel himself before speaking. “I don't know what the fuck you're talking about. I've never had a wife. Besides,” he sighs, “I'm gay, in case you've forgotten.” He crosses his arms tighter, the appetite of the animal growling in his stomach becoming whetted.

But the reaction isn't yelling, or storming off, or the spitting back of bile-filled insults.

Instead, Yuuji's breathing becomes heavier and he slumps on a nearby chair, staring up at Chikara. “You've never. But you. Your dad.” His hands begin to tremble as they rest on his knees. “I need a minute.”

Chikara steps back in shock, arms relaxing by his sides. The ex-captain in him takes over; he gets the attention of the woman behind the bar and points at Yuuji. She nods in understanding and points at a door behind the bar.

“Come on,” Chikara says, putting an arm around Yuuji and pulling him to his feet. “Let's go in here.”

He steers Yuuji through the door, shutting it behind them, and guides him to a battered sofa. He's still shaking, all the colour drained from his face. There's a sink, so Chikara finds a glass and fills it with water, passing it to Yuuji's fingertips; he takes a couple of sips, holding it awkwardly in both hands.

“Sorry,” he says quietly, “Bit of a shock.”

Chikara still doesn't understand what's happening, but he's no longer incensed. He'd always imagined everything was so easy for the Yuuji he carried with him and imagined existed somewhere in the world – but _this_ Yuuji is struggling to speak.

Chikara sits at the other end of the sofa with his hands in his lap, not taking his eyes off Yuuji. He suddenly looks exactly like the eighteen year old he remembers, nervously asking Chikara's permission to sit closer, to kiss him, to take off his shirt. The teenage boy who quivered beneath him in the changing room that day.

Chikara always thought he was the weaker one, but seeing this Yuuji is a stark reminder of how vulnerable he always was; in making him the villain, he's forgotten that over the years.

“Okay. I'm okay.” Yuuji rubs his hands up and down his thighs over and over, repeating the mantra to himself. “Okay.”

Chikara shuffles closer, positive he isn't okay at all. He still doesn't know how to proceed. Ten years of hurt can't vanish in a second, but they're being framed for him in a different way. For some reason, he'd always believed he was the only one hurt, but it's obvious now that of course he wasn't.

How and why does Yuuji think he was _married_? Something comes back to him. “You said something about my dad?”

Yuuji looks up, almost as if he's surprised to hear another voice. “Huh?”

“Dad. Marriage.”

“Oh. Yeah, that day I came over, he told me you were getting married. That's why you didn't want to see me.”

“But I...when was this?”

“After...your text. I came to try and change your mind, and your dad told me about the miai.”

The more Yuuji talks, the less Chikara understands. Each sentence attempting to explain something opens another corridor he didn't realise existed.

“Change my mind?” he asks. “About what?”

“Chika,” Yuuji speaks softly, looking up at him with the same crooked smile. “ _The_ text. The break-up text. Of course I'd try to change your mind. I was in love with you.” He sighs, shrugging apologetically. “Once your dad told me, well, I got it, of course. Traditional family isn't it.” He tries to laugh but it's merely an exhale of bitterness. “Another mixed-race family difference I hadn't expected.”

“No, that's not...” Chikara says. The monster spoiling for a fight in his stomach slopes off, a wave of realisation rushing into the empty space left behind. “I think I know what happened.”

–

It's the day after his last exam. He walks through the door and sees it, propped up against the plant in the middle of the kitchen table. Somehow, he knows exactly what it is, even though it's not due yet.

“Mum?” he asks, and as if from nowhere, his parents appear, along with his uncle. His mother looks like she might have been crying and that's when he knows for sure what's happening.

“Already?” Chikara asks of the three adults, getting a sympathetic nod from his mother.

His uncle, acting as nakōdo, bows to him, then opens the envelope and shows him a photograph of someone he recognises as a distantly removed cousin.

Chikara looks at his mum, but she can't bear to meet his eye. Instead, his father makes the request, and the two men in the room make arrangements for a meeting.

*

He hasn't been allowed his phone since the miai was organised. It's his own fault, because he started the argument as soon as his uncle left. Chikara hoped once his exams were over, he'd get to spend more time with Yuuji, but he's not been allowed anywhere on his own. His parents impress upon him the importance of him behaving 'normally' during the investigation; if anything should come up in the kikiawaseru about his relationship with Yuuji, it would definitely cause problems.

He tries to get messages to Yuuji, but he's got no idea if they get through or not. All he can do is wait for his graduation ceremony and see if Yuuji turns up, as they arranged in the weeks before he was forbidden from talking to him.

Graduation comes and goes, and Chikara faces it alone.

*

Chikara gives his family the slip for a day by forging a letter from Tokyo University of Arts. He uses the letterhead from his acceptance and creates a letter about an open day he has to attend. There's a minute where he thinks his mother knows it's a fake, but then she says it's okay for him to go.

He leaves earlier for Johzenji than he needs to, otherwise the ruse will be up. He contemplates going to Yuuji's house first, but he isn't sure he can remember where it is from the one time he went there.

Instead he waits at the school gate; after an hour, people start turning up in their uniforms. It's only then Chikara realises how many people will be there, and how difficult it will be to spot Yuuji; the school is twice the size of Karasuno.

There's a sound of music in the distance, and some cheering, so Chikara follows it. Outside the gymnasium is the school band, playing something jolly as everyone lines up to file in. He scans the lines of faces, but doesn't recognise a single one, not even that of Yuuji's team mates.

He checks his watch – he's had to start wearing one again since not being allowed his phone – and with ten minutes to go until the ceremony starts, he's watched everyone go through the gym doors and still hasn't seen anyone he knows.

In frustration, he manages to sneak to an open door and peeks in, and there he finds the volleyball team, lined up next to two other teams in yellow. There's a clench in his stomach, of nerves and excitement, as he searches the faces...but Yuuji isn't there. He recognises the rest of the team, so it's definitely the right year group.

Chikara watches the whole graduation from the back of the room, where no one will spot a strange boy hugging a wall, close to tears; it's similar to Karasuno's, in that it starts with the National Anthem and finishes with Auld Lang Syne, but after that, the Johzenji students pull the strings on party poppers and all the students shout an in-joke at the teachers. It's gloriously informal, and exactly what he expected from a school that produced Yuuji.

He leaves the gymnasium before anyone sees him – or at least he tries to. Johzenji's setter (he never did learn his name) jogs out of the door after him, calling out.

“Chikara! Wait!” He catches up when Chikara stops, walking up to him smiling. “Thought that was you. What are you doing here?”

“Graduation,” he says pointlessly.

“Yeah, obviously! But why? He's already gone, hasn't he?”

Chikara wonders for a minute if this player (Futamata, was it?) actually knows who he is, as no part of the sentence makes any sense. “Sorry?”

“He went Sunday, I thought? Is he showing up today as a surprise?” Futamata looks around him, grinning. “That little shit!”

“No, no. He's not coming.”

Futamata looks disappointed, before squeezing Chikara's arm. “Ah okay. Say hello when you talk to him!” He begins to walk away.

Chikara shouts him back. “Hey! Do you have his address? He...borrowed something, I need to get it back.”

“Oh, sure! Yeah, his parents are still there for a while.” He offers to send the information to Chikara's phone, laughs upon hearing he doesn't have one, and then writes the address down, including a diagram of how to get there.

It's not far and there are things Chikara recognises, so he finds it much easier than he expected, despite his thoughts chasing around after each other in his head, trying to make sense of everything else happening.

His hands tremble as he knocks on the door. One of Yuuji's sisters, Mei, answers, her welcoming face turning to a scowl.

“What do you want?” she spits at him.

“I need to see him.”

“You're too late. He went already.”

“Where?” he chokes on the word.

“New York.” She slams the door in his face, and the rest of his knocking is unanswered.

*

The miai goes badly; someone in the neighbourhood let slip about the rumours about 'that Ennoshita boy' and the nakōdo has to make an excuse for his parents at the kotowari.

No other miais are ever organised, his father turns a blind eye to whatever his son gets up to at university, and his mother is secretly pleased. She gives Chikara his phone back immediately; the sim is brand new, so there are no missed calls or messages. It's almost like the last four weeks haven't happened.

Except that Yuuji is in America and he's going to Tokyo; his phone isn't the only clean slate.

–

Yuuji sits and stares at his lap through the whole story, and doesn't speak when Chikara finishes.

“So, I never sent you a text. It must have been Dad. He gave up trying to marry me off after the neighbours told my uncle they saw us kissing on the doorstep.” The unexpected memory of the feeling of Yuuji's lips brings warmth to his cheeks. “I didn't know you came round, he never told me. Mum would have. She was always fond of you. Never liked the marriage thing either.”

Yuuji still remains silent, watching his hands twist and turn.

“Irreconcilable differences,” Chikara says wistfully.

“Huh?” Yuuji finally looks up.

“They got divorced. Mum would never tell me why. It was this, I think.” He remembers her calling him at university, telling him they were separating, feeling no surprise. They hadn't been happy for years, maybe never, but it had gotten worse around the time of his leaving for university.

He notices Yuuji's hands are tightened into fists as he says, “Your fucking dad. He ruined everything.”

“Hey! Wait a minute,” Chikara argues back. He's never been his dad's biggest fan, but he's still his son at the end of the day. “It's not all his fault. You could have come to my graduation.”

Yuuji snorts. “After you told me it was over? With a fucking _text_?”

“I never sent that!”

“I know that _now_. Come on, would you have gone if you were me?”

It's Chikara's turn to look at his lap. “I went to yours.”

“Eh?”

“Yeah. I got away from them for the day.” His feelings on that day at Yuuji's front door come back to him in a flash. “And you'd gone to fucking America! I mean...the fuck, Yuuji! You never mentioned America!”

“I had two places accept me, the one in Tokyo and one in America. I applied to them both before I even met you. Obviously I was going to Tokyo, but then...so I went to another country. I needed to be far away.” As he looks up, Chikara can see he has tears brimming in his eyes. “I was heart broken.”

By now, he's too angry to be swayed by Yuuji crying. The truth is too hard. “ _You_ were heartbroken? For ten years, I never knew what I did wrong. You just...vanished.”

Yuuji snorts. “Because _you_ were getting married” He wipes a hand down his face. “Look. We're not getting anywhere going round in circles.”

“I think we are, to be honest. We both thought the other one broke our heart. For ten years.” The realisation is so morose, he can't stop joining in with Yuuji's crying. “Fuck.”

–

His aunt's house in the suburbs of Boston is around the corner from where she and Yuuji's mother grew up. There's an actual picket fence and flowers so symmetrical they look as if a child has drawn them.

“Thanks for letting me stay for a bit,” he says, as she fetches an ice cold drink from the huge fridge.

“It's fine! Your mum said you wanted a bit of a holiday before term starts.”

“Yeah.” Yuuji sniffs, determined to keep the mood festive. Like a real holiday, instead of him running away. He's a terrible actor though, and she sees through it immediately.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Suddenly, he's telling her everything, even things he hasn't told his mum. They all know Chikara split up with him, but he kept the marriage quiet. It's easier for him to be sad if they think it's all Chikara's fault. If they think he's being forced into a marriage, they might be more sympathetic towards him, and Yuuji can't have that. He needs their sympathy all for himself, no matter how selfish it is.

He tells his aunt, even though she doesn't understand what a miai is, she can definitely sense there's something out of the teenagers' control that's keeping them apart, making her nephew cry as he sits at her kitchen table.

“Oh, honey.” She tries to take his mind off his upset, suggesting, “Why don't you and Joel borrow the camper van and have a boy's trip?”

Two days later, Joel drives them to New York. It takes a few days, sleeping in car parks on the way. They spend hardly any money, the little they have goes on petrol and sweets.

They take it in turns to use the van for hook-ups; nothing serious, all girls. One of them tries to go further with Yuuji, but he shies away, wondering if he'll ever let anyone touch him without feeling sick.

(Eighteen year old Yuuji doesn't know that he'll get over this in a few months – his libido and American college attitudes to sex cures the nausea, even though the ache in his heart remains.)

Joel takes him to his university residence, and leaves him alone in New York. Yuuji cries at his freedom.

–

Silence falls over them again, once it's all said.

At some point, Yuuji will have to go back to work, and Chikara to his hotel, but there's an unspoken game of chicken to see who dares move first.

“...sted time,” Chikara catches Yuuji muttering.

“Sorry?”

“'So much wasted time', I said.”

“Yeah.”

And then it's silent again. Chikara can't decide if the barmaid not appearing yet is lucky or not. They desperately need this impasse breaking.

As if reading his mind, Yuuji speaks first. “What now?” he says, ever the braver one.

“I don't...nothing, I guess.”

Yuuji takes a deep breath and exhales. He looks in pain, although Chikara isn't sure why. “You get over me?” he asks.

Chikara thinks, and says, “In a way. Yeah. I mean, I had to.”

“Oh.”

“You?”

There's a long pause, before Yuuji admits, “No.”

“Oh.”

“Should have expected it really.” He snorts, an unkind sound that doesn't suit him. “I mean, I always loved you more.”

“Hey! That's not fair!”

He rounds on Chikara, accusingly. “You loved me?”

“I told you, I...”

“We're not in Japan now!” he shouts back, making Chikara flinch. “Tell me in English if you have to. But _tell me_. I really need to know I haven't wasted most of my life missing something that was one-sided.”

“Of course I loved you, you fucking idiot!” Chikara shouts in English, the words feeling even more foreign in his anger. “I loved you, so much. No one ever...compared. I tried to forget you. But not knowing _why..._ it was unpossible.” The words are tumbling out in such broken English, he isn't even sure he's making sense. “Of course I never got over you!”

Yuuji stares at him wordlessly, for at least a minute, before taking a deep breath. “You single?”

“I...” Chikara presses his lips together in a tight frown. “Yes.”

“Me too.” Yuuji stands up, brushing down the back of his trousers, and stretches a hand to Chikara. “Let's go to your hotel.”

–

It takes the best part of six hours to catch up on ten years of news.

The mini-bar takes a hammering, and Chikara knows the company won't cover it; he says as much in the email he sends telling them he's staying in Chicago for another week. He almost lies and says it's for work, but in the end he just tells them he met an old friend and deserves time off.

Six hours at school used to drag, but six hours with Yuuji never did, and they still don't. He's full of stories about people Chikara doesn't know, but he wants to hear every one anyway. Then Yuuji listens intently when it's Chikara's turn, cooing over any vaguely famous actors he's worked with.

As the hours wear on, they sit closer to each other, until they're back into a familiar position; Yuuji lying back against the wall, Chikara holding onto him, legs lying over Yuuji's as he giggles into the top of Chikara's hair.

The whispering starts after the catching up is done. “I missed you,” Yuuji breathes against him, sending a shiver down Chikara's spine. “I missed _this,_ I mean, not the other stuff.”

Chikara knows exactly what he means – their proximity is unforced, something he's never managed to replicate with anyone else. It's comfortable, Chikara doesn't have to try to be anything other than what he is already. He's enough, and always has been.

As they lie there, Yuuji running one hand through Chikara's hair, tucking the other into his back pocket, he feels angry again, just for a minute. This time it's directed at his father. Even then, he's so used to feeling angry at his dad, it passes, especially now he knows he has a right to be so angry with him.

There's a lot of mistakes that have been made, a lot of blame to be apportioned. But all that can wait. For now, he's where he feels like he belongs, tucked under Yuuji's arms.

–

It takes six hours to catch up, and six days for Yuuji to resign from his job.

He turns up at Chikara’s hotel that evening, with a floral arrangement of yellow daffodils, ox-eye daisies and primroses.

Then, he books the flight back to Japan with Chikara, not wanting to waste any more time.

He's waited too long already.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I researched a bit about Japanese marriage interviews for this, but if I've got anything wrong please tell me. It's not as prevalent these days, but Chikara's family are traditional, so I thought it was relevant.
> 
> Obviously, a lot of this was inspired by listening to 'Chicago' by Sufjan Stevens. I think this is probably the end of the fic. It went in a direction I truly didn't expect.
> 
> Daffodils - new beginning  
> Ox-eye daisy - patience  
> Primrose - eternal love


End file.
